


Now That We're Dead

by Maleyah (Katherine_Kat)



Series: Season 15 Codas [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20 coda, Canon divergent from the moment Bobby says "Cas helped", Cas is Human, Coda, F/F, First Kiss, Fix It, Fix-It, Heaven, M/M, coda 15x20, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:06:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27657266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine_Kat/pseuds/Maleyah
Summary: “You got everything you could ever want or need or dream. So I guess the question is… What’re you gonna do now, Dean?”Looking around, he doesn’t know how to answer that question. The obvious is suggested when she turns out to have made it to Heaven too. Dust dances in the air around Baby, shining in the sunlight, tempting him to go for a ride. The endless stretched out road and horizon.He blinks a few times, slow and owlish.And right there, his shadow falling long and dark, almost touching Dean’s feet, is Cas.OR: the one where Cas gets the love he deserves
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dorothy Baum/Charlie Bradbury
Series: Season 15 Codas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015657
Comments: 31
Kudos: 172





	Now That We're Dead

**Author's Note:**

> There are a lot of feelings going around about the finale. Tumblr is vibrating and there are things coming out of the woodworks. I try to not read too many of them, but added two posts of my own. One where I give into my nostalgic bitch ass, because this show has done a lot for me on so many levels, even while it was far from perfect. Another where I look at it from the LGBT/mild female angle. They tend to both be on the chopping block. And people wonder why so many women write queer stories.
> 
> That said, without rewriting the whole damn show, this is a first take at what I'd change about that final episode. (Unbeta'ed.) There's a second one incoming, where, y'know, they're not all relegated to Heaven. Because don't bury your queers.
> 
> Title song found thanks to Tanstaafl. Thank you, love. We got this.
> 
> Be good to yourselves, darlings, we deserve it. Take a breath, take a break. Take a step back, if you need to. (The energy on social media tires me tf out. I get the anger, mind, but I seem to be stuck on grief.) Take your meds, if you're on 'em. Drink you water. Go for a walk. Hug.
> 
> Love and hugs, as ever,  
> Mal

"Cas helped."

Dean's heart skips a few beats, though he forces his face to maintaining that semi-smile he now believes Cas would peg from a mile away. Scratch that. He knows.

It took getting to New Heaven for Dean to revisit those excruciating, last moments with Cas in any calm kind of way. Which is to say he still feels like his soul might vibrate out of his body at any given moment. Before, on Earth, he had to keep going. Even with Chuck out of the game, even with both of them 'free', whatever that meant in a world with everyone they fought for gone. The empty words to live for them were just that: empty. And that word in itself never fails to trigger him to introspection. Even while he and Sam had that whole nesting thing down and life became a mimic, he still had to keep going.

Because to stop, to pause, to breathe would have equaled having to feel the loss of Cas, and he’s _still_ not sure he’s ready for that. There’s too much he was taught he couldn’t do or have.

Or be.

He always knew he was going to go out for the sake of the family business. Maybe not in such a randomly, unlucky way, but they cheated death for so long. It’s just… stupid that Cas sacrificed himself for _that_. He was supposed to live out his life, even while Dean keeps wondering how that would have gone. A shitload of therapy, for sure. But instead, he went out like this. Saving two boys whose names could just as well have been Sam and Dean. Hunting vamps.

All of that, for this.

Here… There’s Bobby, who clearly shacked up with Ellen. So Jo must be here too. His mom and dad on the other side of the lake. Rufus. He’s wondering if Ash is here. Charlie. Earth got upgraded into an eternal Heaven. Or simplified. Whatever it is Jack did.

And Cas helped.

 _Cas helped_.

After Jack became God.

Wait.

Bobby’s voice make it through again.

“You got everything you could ever want or need or dream. So I guess the question is… What’re you gonna do now, Dean?”

Looking around, he doesn’t know how to answer that question. The obvious is suggested when she turns out to have made it to Heaven too. Dust dances in the air around Baby, shining in the sunlight, tempting him to go for a ride. The endless stretched out road and horizon.

He blinks a few times, slow and owlish.

And right there, his shadow falling long and dark, almost touching Dean’s feet, is Cas.

He lurches to his feet with a drawn out breath, throat constricted, and all but stumbles off the porch. His boots create loud crunching noises, as he follows the shadow like it’s a life line. Don’t step into the light or he might vanish.

Cas gives him a tentative smile, eyes crinkling. His hair’s greying at the temples and he’s dressed in his familiar shirt, but with one of Dean’s hoodies thrown on. No trench.

“Where’s the coat?”

“Back home.”

Home, he mouths mutely.

Home?

“You live here too? You’re really here?” he asks, the words stringing together urgently. “You’re not…” He swallows hard and his chest hurts. “Is this temporary? Am I…”

_Losing you again?_

“I’m here,” Cas says, extending his hand.

His own shakes when he reaches for him, expecting Cas to pop out of existence. One last cruel joke. Maybe this isn’t Heaven. Maybe it’s Hell. Maybe he’s back on the rack. Maybe he’s hanging off that forsaken rod, hallucinating between life and death.

But Cas’ hand is warm and strong when he grips Dean tight.

He pulls at Dean, away from Baby, towards a path that meanders alongside the lake. The greenery grows thicker around them, while they walk. In silence. Now that they’re here, he doesn’t know what to say. Besides the horridly obvious, but how to go about that after ten years plus of being an idiot is a bit foggy.

“Charlie and Dorothy live up there,” Cas says, pointing at a house that looks like it was plucked right out of a Dungeons and Dragons game, balanced on the edge of the mountain. “They’re home. Standing dinner invitation.”

“Who lives there?” he asks, when a sturdy house with heavy shutters comes into view.

“Benny and Victor,” Cas says. “They’re off fishing.”

“Fi… Fishing,” he mumbles, nodding.

“That lot is going to be for Sam and Eileen, whenever they’ll be along.”

“Eileen made it back?”

“Last efforts,” Cas nods. “The best we could do.”

The sun dances in his eyes, while shadows play across his features. Patches of the leaves overhead, the wind playing through his hair, and there’s a darkness with him.

“That’s good, Cas,” he says. “You did good.”

Cas frowns, as if a touch upset, and chews his lip. Whatever’s going on in that gorgeous head remains there for now, when they turn a small bend and the path opens up to a patch of land. There’s another lake, smaller, and more trees. A vegetable garden that’s in the process of being worked. A myriad of pots with herbs on the porch and window sills.

“And that…,” Dean asks, his voice lilting up when he never finishes the question. Leaves it hanging like dandelion fluff, dancing around them lightly.

This time he has the full attention of those ocean blues. Pensively, Cas purses his lips, his eyebrow ticked up. “Can be ours.”

His fingers flex intuitively and he squeezes Cas’ hand a touch too hard. He gets moving, Cas smooth beside him. The wood creaks pleasantly under their combined weight. He spots proof of a recent paint job on the shutters, that’s still in progress, and instantly his fingers itch to get to work.

“I fucked up,” he blurts out. “That was a stupid way to go.”

Cas’ mouth quirks slightly. “Kind of. I know you did what you set out to do, but I hoped you’d live longer than that… A good forty years or so.”

“I was tired. Careless, maybe.”

“I know,” Cas says softly. “You have been for a while. Still…”

“I get it, alright,” he grumbles. “Why didn’t he bring you back? If Eileen’s down there with Sam. Why aren’t you.. we?”

“We were too late. And Jack… Jack wrote himself out of the story. Not perfect. I wasn’t even supposed to be here, I think.”

Cas puts his hand on the handle and Dean sees him wince, rolling his shoulder, which is when it sinks in. “You’re human.”

Chuckling softly, Cas pushes the door open, the scent of home hitting Dean. “Yes. I just woke up in here.”

His attention is pulled away from the conversation with intense focus, when he sees movement and hears the delighted bark. He bends through his knees to wrap his arms around the bundle of fluff that zooms his way. "Miracle! You're here too! Oh, buddy... I'm sorry."

"He's very happy you're here," Cas says reassuringly.

Here. Being home. Dean stands up and stares. The trench is hanging on the coat rack. Dean’s quick to hang his own leathers next to it. Everything’s there the way it would have been perfect on Earth. Well equipped kitchen. Cozy sitting room with a foldable couch and lots of blankets and pillows. Dean ruffles through the mutt's hair once more, blinking away tears. Miracle whines at them sweetly, hopping from one paw to the other, and turns around to lie down in front of the crackling fire. Large book closet, stacked to the brim with volumes old and new. An impressive retro sound system. A shelf of cassettes he recognizes.

Pictures everywhere and he doesn’t remember they took any. Ever. Of himself and Cas. Of the lot of them. On the road. In the Bunker. In Baby. Diners. Fishing.

“Where do those come from?”

Cas tilts his head, looking proud and shy at the same time. “My memories.”

“Fuck, Cas,” he exhales roughly, wiping his hand over his mouth.

The angel – sorry, former angel’s eyebrow shoots up and Dean instantly flusters, narrowing his eyes. Schooling his features back to that innocence he’s so good at, Cas bats his lashes at him. Wordless, Dean looks to the stairs. He toes off his shoes at the bottom and starts ascending, Cas hot on his heels.

Rustic bathroom, windows open, curtains hovering in a lovely breeze that carries a blend of jasmin and cherry inside. A small laundry room with deck.

“We have cherry trees?”

“And apple,” Cas says behind him.

Studio of sorts, he spots. Painter’s easel. Guitar. That feels new. Somehow familiar, because he knows the painting is Cas’ and the music is his. It fits so easily, his heart clenches again painfully. His voice slips to a hoarse whisper.

“Years… We missed years.”

Cas’ hand hovers near his lower back, but doesn’t touch. He looks back.

“Time is elusive for celestials,” Cas starts, but Dean sees the shadows in his eyes.

Understands them better, because they’re so similar to his own. He leans in, holding Cas’ gaze, and sees the little jump in those dark eyebrows, which precedes the hitch in his chest the heartbeat before he plants a gentle kiss to Cas’ cheekbone.

“Is it?”

“It’s stopped dragging itself,” Cas hums, voice shaky. “Recently.”

Uh-huh. Like Dean gets himself killed stupidly recent.

Cas loved him the moment he laid his hands on him. Love being such a human-like privilege, Dean realizes that Cas has been counting time for all those years. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, years of loving unrequited. Of thinking – what did he say – he couldn’t have his happiness.

He tugs Cas towards the remaining, slightly ajar door. “Bedroom, I take it?”

Cas doesn’t reply, while Dean walks inside, their fingers intertwined. He doesn’t hesitate, though he appreciates the aesthetic. All warm colors, deep yellows and heavy, wooden beams, he’s instantly at ease. It smells of Cas, which is what he imagines the stars to smell like. Stardust and ozone.

He shakes off his plaid. When the sound of his belt clinks loud, Cas moves up behind him, hands on the loosening jeans at his hips. “Rest?”

He glances sideways over his shoulder, finding Cas in the corner of his eye. “… Nesting.”

Cas plants a kiss to his deltoid, breath huffing through the hair at the nape of his neck, rising goosebumps. “Okay.”

He strips down to his tee and boxer briefs, slipping under the fresh sheets. Cas removes another layer, revealing his tattoo. The Enochian brings in its wake memories, but those are chased easily by the tactile experience of finding his way around a bed with Cas.

They bump elbows and knees. Noses, when they get to the part of pulling the sheet up higher.

“You’ve got chilly feet,” he accuses.

“No more grace, beloved.”

The strength goes out of him at the endearment and he sinks into the mattress, trying to vanish, while staring at Cas. And, unbidden, an eruption of something that’s best described as a bottle of champagne overflowing with fireworks and molasses, he’s warmed from the inside out.

He smiles at Cas. The real kind. Dean knows exactly which smiles light up his whole face.

Cas just provoked one.

“Beloved?” he echoes softly.

Cas’ cheeks tinge darker and he grumbles softly, while he scooches closer. “Requests for loving nicknames?”

He shakes his head, instincts made for connection taking over, while he mirrors Cas and they wrap limbs around each other, until there’s precious little room left.

Apparently he’s the little spoon, even when facing each other. Cas’ lips land somewhere near his hairline. He searches out Cas’ heartbeat under his palm. Slow and steady. Short chest hair.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“As much as I’m hoping that’s a rhetorical question… and you’d think our current position answers it for me,” Cas sighs and plants a lingering kiss above his brow, and he can tell by the way he breathes, he’s soaking up Dean’s scent. His heart beats faster. His grip on Dean intensifies, willing _something_ into the moment. “Every word.”

He squirms, a sudden gesture that breaks him free of the embrace for a brief moment, before he settles back down so he can see Cas. Worming one arm out from under the sheet, he rests it against Cas’ shoulder so he can touch his face. Butterfly touches to his temple, thumb to his cheekbone. Dean isn’t the only one who is tired. Cas aged into his human body.

“You were there for everyone,” he says. “All the time. Sam told me… you told him his moral compass was right, when I was being an idiot. You were always there for Jack. For me. For all of us. But I feel we weren’t there enough for you.”

Cas’ solemn silence feels like part confirmation, part curiosity. Dean inhales deeply, having spoken the words in his prayers countless times by now. Literally countless times. Whoever’s been hearing them must be sick of it. Cas doesn’t look like he’s heard them.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. More than life itself.”

“Clearly,” Cas quips, but his eyes are shiny and his lips tremble.

They’re both at risk of bawling and Dean’s not sure he can handle that.

Eyes sliding shut, he kisses Cas. A meeting of warm lips, shy almost, while he presses closer to Cas. Yes, his mind oozes, yesyesyes, when Cas’ arms close around him and he truly feels the meaning behind the words Cas spoke to him in his last moments and he hates himself for time lost. For the hurt he caused Cas. Cards his fingers through Cas’ hair, the love he denied both of them bleeding out of him with every touch.

“I want to love you, Cas,” he mumbles between kisses. “Let me love you the way I should have. The way you deserve.”

Cas smiles wetly, planting or stealing kiss after kiss. Hard to tell where one of them ends and the other starts. So blessedly warm under his hands, he becomes aware of how vulnerable Cas now is. Human, he carries the scars of the life he led alongside them, all for the sake of love. It’s downright tragic. He traces them with his fingers, ginger caresses that grow bolder as time slips out of their grasp. Insofar as it has any meaning up here.

Stubble burns across his neck and shoulders, where Cas tries to count freckles, but keeps losing track. He laughs softly and pushes at Cas until they’re kissing again, but it escalates into something else. Lips parting. Sounds that send restraint off its hinges join in. They roll like cats in catnip. One moment Dean’s on his back, the next he’s straddling Cas.

His brain slips into another part of himself, something he’s long sidelined, but he wouldn’t be who he is if it didn’t choose this moment to pipe back up.

“D’you wanna…?”

“Eventually, yes. Very much. Right now? Not necessarily.” When Dean holds that wide-eyed gaze for a bit too long, Cas frowns, grabbing at him. Hands traveling up his thighs under his rucked up shirt again. “This is good. Yes?”

“Yes,” he breathes out. “Yesyesyes. This is ours.”

Dean presses his face to Cas’ shoulder, nosing around until he meets his chest, and breathes there. Quietly. A painful relief churns gently in his gut, but something around his heart is brightening with every breath that Cas takes. Every reassuring thud of his heart under Dean’s ear. The way his ribs rise to meet his hand. The way their lips meet over and over, and he knows they’ve got time.


End file.
